


When the Love is Worth the Pain

by st_mick



Series: He is the Sun... [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence from here - no way they're going to Manhattan, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe Barcelona wasn't such a great idea, Multi, OT3, Rory saves the Doctor, That's not how the mind or memory works at all... But if it helps, The weight of memory, Totally not gratuitous sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: The noseless dogs of Barcelona quickly lose their charm after one of them bites Rory.  The vaccine unleashes two thousand years of memory, and Rory will crumble under the burden, if the Doctor does not help him sort it out.  But the intimacy of the fix for the cure for the bite unlocks secrets that will not be hidden again.  As Rory grieves losses felt anew, he finds comfort from both expected and unexpected sources.  A new family is formed as a new path is forged.





	1. Barcelona

**Doctor**

_Rory_

**This isn’t an alien invasion.  They live here.  This is their empire.  This is kicking the Romans out of Rome.**

_Rome fell._

**I know.  I was there.**

_So was I._

**Personal question.**

_Seriously?  You?!_

**Do you ever remember it?  Two thousand years, waiting for Amy?  The Last Centurion?**

_No._

**Are you lying?**

_Course I’m lying._

**Course you are.  Not the sort of thing anyone forgets.**

_But I don’t remember it all the time.  It’s like this door in my head.  I can keep it shut._

~Season 6, Episode 2, “Day of the Moon”

*****

_After “The Girl Who Waited”…_

*****

The Doctor had finally made it to Barcelona.  The planet, not the city.  As promised, the dogs had no noses.  What they did have was a nasty neurogenic pathogen and an unfortunate tendency to bite the tourists.  Barcelona’s tourism board was quite adept at concealing this fact, mostly because the attacks were rarely serious.

Because the primary side effect of a friendly nip was a slight rearrangement of memory, tourists were rarely the wiser.  The victims would come away a bit muddled, but no worse for wear, and their families were comped and upgraded, accordingly. 

For the more serious attacks, there was a vaccine.  It was highly effective, though it did affect the hippocampus (or the equivalent) of most humanoids.  For reasons the scientists of Barcelona could not fathom, the vaccine liberated that part of the brain, unlocking memory.

***

The Doctor and Amy were, as usual, capering along, chasing after the noseless dogs.  Rory followed at a more sedate pace, enjoying the sweet air and the musical birdsong.  At least, he thought they were birds, though they looked more like winged salamanders. 

He took a deep breath, trying to shake the sorrow that seemed to have replaced the marrow in his bones.  He tried to focus on the fact that River was a truly spectacular human being.  And distract himself with the outing.  It really was a pity the dogs had no noses.  The air was almost intoxicating… 

Rory’s thoughts were interrupted when he saw a curious canine approaching the Doctor and Amy.  Its tongue was lolling in a friendly way, and it seemed to be tasting the air.  Which would make sense, since it couldn’t very well sniff it.

If confronted, Rory would have vigorously denied the very idea that he had hackles.  Nonetheless, his were rising as the dog cocked its head innocently to one side as the Doctor and Amy approached it.  It wagged its tail and gave a congested bark.

As the Doctor reached out to pet the pooch, something in the animal shifted, almost imperceptibly.  Rory pushed the Doctor out of the way just as the dog launched itself, teeth bared.  The Doctor stumbled into Amy, who lost her balance and fell over as the wretched beast sank its teeth into Rory’s forearm.

“ _Lupus deo affliguntur damnati_!”[1] he shouted, wrenching the dog’s head one way, still attached to his arm, as he twisted its body in the opposite direction.  It did not even yelp when its neck snapped.  Suddenly horrified, Rory dropped to his knees.

“Rory?” the Doctor asked tentatively as he rushed to his side.  “Rory, are you all right?”

“I… I didn’t mean…”  Rory stared, horrified at the dog’s body hanging limply from his arm.  Its jaw was still clamped tightly shut.  “Oh, God!”

“Rory!” Amy ran to him, and suddenly it felt as though she was the only thing holding him up as the Doctor attempted to pry the dog’s mouth open.  Rory cried out in pain, and the Doctor was forced to stop. 

Breathing hard, Rory reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding pocket knife.  He opened the blade and looked uncertainly from the Doctor to Amy.  “Please turn away.  I can’t do this, if you’re watching.”

“What are you going to do?” Amy asked, frowning.

“I need to cut through the jaw muscles to release the bite,” he explained wearily.  “Please, I’m starting to feel lightheaded.  I need to do this now, or one of you will have to, after I pass out.” 

Reluctantly, they turned away, and he watched for a moment more to be certain they were not going to turn back around.  It only took a moment to make the necessary incisions.  Once it was done, he slid from his knees, sitting down as he dropped the knife and pried the dog’s teeth out of his arm with a soft groan.  The Doctor and Amy turned back around.

Blood was pouring from his arm, and he was beginning to feel faint.  “Dizzy,” he muttered, suddenly feeling quite tired.  He was losing blood at an alarming rate, and his training told him he was going into shock.  “Help me lie down, Amy.  Put something under my head, and try to elevate my feet.  I’m probably going to pass out, soon.  You need to stop the bleeding, somehow.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and he felt a strange, peaceful forgetfulness come over him.  “It’s nice here,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling up at Amy.  His arm hurt, but he wasn’t sure why.

The Doctor dragged the dog’s carcass some distance away.  When he returned, he took off his jacket and tore the arm off of his shirt to bind the wound.  “We need to get him back to the TARDIS,” he said to Amy, who was watching her husband with wide, worried eyes.

They half carried him to the TARDIS, which very kindly relocated the med bay so it was adjacent to the main control room.  Once they had him settled onto one of the beds, the Doctor began reading Rory’s vitals as they flashed up on the monitor.  “We can take care of the blood loss and infection, but there seems to be some sort of pathogen…”

He began working on Rory, attaching a needleless IV and healing the nasty wound.  “Amy, I need to go out.  I won’t be long.  You watch over him while I’m gone.  He already has a fever, and I need to see if anyone has some sort of vaccine that is safe for humans.”

Rory was still staring at Amy, seemingly unaware of his injury.  Amy did not take her eyes off of him.  “Doctor, why was he speaking Latin?”

“Probably instinct,” the Doctor replied, putting his jacket back on.  “That was Roranicus that killed the dog, you know.  And cut its jaw muscles.”

She nodded.  “Rory would never…”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t the TARDIS translate?”

The Doctor had wondered that, himself.  He reached out and asked, and was surprised at the answer.  “For the same reason she does not translate Gallifreyan.”

Amy finally looked up, frowning.

“She says her ‘Pretty’ belongs to her, just as I do.”  He chuckled.  “She does not translate the native speech of those who belong to her.  Consider it a courtesy.”

“He seems so… peaceful,” she said, smoothing Rory’s brow.  He looked at her and smiled.  “He has not looked like this since before he didn’t exist.  I had not even noticed the difference, but I see it, now.”  She frowned.  “Something has been troubling him, and I didn’t even notice.”  She kissed his forehead.  “Doctor, please hurry.  He is burning up.”

The Doctor left and quickly found a medical facility, which dispensed the vaccine.  “Safe for most humanoids, it cures the forgetfulness that is brought on by the dog’s bite,” the helpful young being at the dispensary stated.  “If you have your spa, hotel, and shuttle receipts, I would be happy to validate them for you, to compensate you for any inconvenience.”

The Doctor frowned at her and left with the vaccine.

***

 

[1] God-damned wolf


	2. Memories

By the time the Doctor returned to the TARDIS, Rory’s fever was raging. 

“Doctor,” Amy called out as soon as he entered the med bay.  “His fever is one hundred and six!  Please help!”

The Doctor rushed to Rory’s side.  The bite was festering, despite having been thoroughly cleaned and closed.  Rory’s skin was scorching-hot and dry.  His eyes were glassy, but he gazed placidly back at the Doctor.  “Rory, can you speak?”

Rory blinked.  “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, his voice relieved.

“It looks very painful,” the Doctor said, glancing down at Rory’s arm.

“Oh, that,” Rory said vaguely.  “Yes, that hurts quite a lot, actually.  But the other…”  He seemed to drift off.  An alarm went off on the monitor.  His fever had risen another degree.

The Doctor worked frantically to mitigate the fever.  He wanted to buy enough time to test the vaccine and make sure it was safe.  But nothing worked.  He looked at Amy, his eyes desperate as Rory’s fever hit one hundred and eight.  “Amy, I don’t have time to test this vaccine.  I do not know what it might do.”

She looked at him, her face stony.  “But you do know what will happen if you don’t give it to him.”

The Doctor nodded.  He turned away and prepared the vaccine.  After another moment’s hesitation, he administered it.

Within minutes, Rory’s fever broke.  But he became restless, his brow furrowed and his breathing heavy.  “Paulo Aurelia,”[1] he muttered, then gave a sob.  “Aelia, quod factum est ad Aurelia dulcis mihi?”[2]

The Doctor leaned close to Rory.  “Rory?” he asked gently.  “Who is Aurelia?  Who is Aelia?”

Opening his eyes, Rory grabbed the Doctor’s coat by its lapels.  “Ubi sunt pueri mei?”[3] he growled, looking fierce.

“Your children?”  The Doctor’s eyes grew wide.  “Roranicus, can you speak English, please?  Talk to us.”  He held up a hand for Amy to remain quiet.

Rory blinked, and his eyes cleared.  “My name was Renatus[4] Lupus[5] Petran[6].”  He let go of the Doctor and fell back onto the table.

The Doctor stared.  “The rock solid person born again as a wolf?”  He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “What is it about my friends and wolves?”

Rory did not respond.  “Aelia was my wife,” he said, wearily.  He rubbed his eyes.  “I held Aurelia once.  Just the once.  Then I went off to Dacia to fight.  My sweet girl died of a fever before I returned.  The twins, Claudia and Drusus, lived.”  He stared at the Doctor, dry-eyed.  “Except they didn’t, did they?”  He choked, but reined in the emotion that was roiling just below the surface.

“I took the Pandorica back to Rome.  It had been more than fifteen years, but I had concocted this grand plan to watch over it through the generations, seeing my children and their children, and theirs.  It was to be a family adventure, through the ages.  But when I arrived in Rome…”

Rory folded in on himself, turning on his side and curling up into the fetal position.  “They did not even exist.  I had a lifetime of memories, but none of it was real.  I lost my entire family the day I sought out my old villa and realized…”  He let out a strangled cry, but still no tears fell.  “They were as real in my memory as Amy, or you, Doctor.  But they did not even exist.  I…  I was utterly alone, and my family was _worse than dead_.”

It was as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room.  The Doctor turned pained eyes to Amy, who was crying quietly beside Rory.  She reached out and embraced him.  He curled up more tightly, covering his head.

“And then Melody,” he whispered, once he felt he had regained control.  “So tiny, so perfect.  She was so like Aurelia, and I only got to hold her once.  But she didn’t exist, either.  I never actually held my Melody, did I?  And now she is gone, too.  And Mels.  Even River is gone.  Amy, I am so sorry,” he grabbed her hand and held it to his forehead.  “I am so sorry, this is my fault.  For some reason, I don’t get to keep my children.  I’m so sorry.  You deserve better than this.  And I cannot even die properly, to set you free.”

“Rory, what happened with Melody was not your fault!” Amy cried, utterly terrified by his speech.

“But it was,” he said miserably.  “I should have known that you weren’t you.”

“Rory, it was a Flesh avatar, a perfect clone of Amy, inhabited by her consciousness.  You could not have known.”

“But I should have!  The wolf knew something was off.  I could tell you the day they took you, because your skin smelled different.  I just convinced myself you were using a new soap, or something.  So stupid!”  He hit himself in the head, hard, then looked at Amy, horrified.  “It’s all my fault!”

“Rory Williams, you stop that, this instant!” Amy growled, her voice angry.  “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s that horrible Kovarian woman.  Look,” she took his face in her hands and kissed him, hard.  “You weren’t to know.  And a new soap is perfectly logical, because how could you have known about the Flesh?”

“I should have asked the Doctor,” he was inconsolable.  “But I was embarrassed about… about the wolf.”

“The wolf?” Amy frowned, confused.

“Renatus Lupus Petran,” the Doctor said quietly.  “Lupus.  The wolf.”  He reached out and took Rory’s hand.  “Why were you embarrassed?”

“You think it’s some funny thing.  ‘Rory the Roman’.  And I… I like how you look at me, when you say that, so it seems stupid to also be annoyed.  But it’s not a joke.  That life, it was _so hard_ , and still it was pretty good, and then it was gone, and not just gone, but it had never existed… kind of like me…”

As Rory spoke he grew more distraught, and the Doctor quickly moved to sedate him.  He quietened, and seemed to drift into an uneasy doze.  The Doctor looked at Amy, his eyes sad.

“He’s not speaking as though he’s just suddenly remembered these things,” she said, a hint of accusation in her tone.

“No.  We only spoke of it once, but I believe he remembers all of it, but only a bit at a time.”  He looked at Amy, his eyes growing wide.  “The attendant at the medical facility said that the dog’s bite causes forgetfulness.  So the vaccine…  Oh, no no no no no,” he muttered, taking what was left of the vaccine and preparing it for analysis.

“What?” Amy asked, not leaving Rory’s side as the Doctor began studying the vaccine using the lab equipment in the room.

He said nothing for a few minutes, then he turned to Amy, looking a bit ill.

“What?” she asked, hating that look.

“Amy, the dog bite made him forget, for a while.  That is why he looked so peaceful.  He did not have two thousand years’ worth of memories stuffed behind some flimsy door in his head, bearing down on him.”  He sighed and looked down at Rory, who was sleeping restlessly, muttering something in Latin under his breath.  “The vaccine essentially dilates the hippocampus.”

“Meaning?”

“The door has been blown off its hinges.”

“So all of those memories…”

“Are just pouring in.  Amy, the human mind is not capable of holding, or processing…”

“So fix it.” She said, looking at him fiercely.

“Amy,” he quailed.  He had sworn he would never do such a thing again.  Not after Donna.  But then he realized.  Even if he was willing, he could not.  It was just too much to remove.  “I cannot.”

“The hell you can’t,” she bit off angrily.

“Amy, I can’t, for the same reason the TARDIS won’t translate his Latin.”

She cocked her head at him in that way that spoke volumes about her current assessment of his idiocy.  He sighed.  “Look.  Rory has two thousand years of memories, yes?  Well, for most of those years, Latin was his first language.  Don’t look at me like that.  You do realize that it was Roranicus – sorry, Renatus Lupus Petran– that guarded the Pandorica, just as much as Rory did?”

“Stop giving me a headache,” she groaned.  “You told me about Donna.”  She sighed at the look he gave her and approached him.  “You did it to save her life.  Are you saying you can’t do the same thing for Rory?”

“No!” Rory roared, rising from the bed and backing away from them, ripping the IV from his arm.  His legs gave way and he fell to the floor, but continued to scrabble backwards.  “Don’t you dare take my children from me!  My memory… this sorrow… is all I have left of them!”

“Rory, calm down,” the Doctor said in a placating tone.  “I won’t do anything without your permission.”

“Well I won’t give it!” Rory shouted.  He clasped his head in his hands and cried out.  “My head!”

The Doctor knelt beside Rory.  “Rory, listen to me.  Even if you wanted me to, I could not remove that many memories.  You… your psyche would collapse.  You would not survive.  Because whether you have remembered these things or not, they are still part of who you are, now.”

“Help me!” Rory reached out and grasped the Doctor by the arms.  “I can’t make it stop!  Usually… the door.  But it’s gone.  Battle.  My babies.  The men I have killed.  I… I can’t…”

The Doctor embraced Rory.  “Shh.  I have an idea, Rory.  Do…  Do you trust me?”

Rory let out a snort of derision.  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Fair point.  Well, here’s my idea.  While your hippocampus is dilated, I will take your memories.”

“No!” Rory tried to pull away, but the Doctor held firm.

“Only temporarily, Rory.  I will take them, and then we will construct a series of doors in your mind.  Something that cannot be so easily dismantled.  And we can make some more accessible than others, as well.  Then we will sort through the memories, together, and you can tell me which door they should go behind.”

“How long will that take?” Amy asked, staring at the Doctor.

“Excellent point, Pond!” the Doctor released Rory and ran to the control room to fly the TARDIS into the vortex.  Within a minute, he was back in the med bay.  “We will both be in my mind to do this.  It will take… some few hours.”

“How can you sort through two thousand years of memories in a few hours?” she asked.

“Time moves differently, in the mind of a Time Lord,” he said quietly.  “Rory, are you willing to try this?”

Rory was in so much pain, he could hardly think.  Even so, he realized the intimacy of such an endeavor.  “Do you trust _me_ , Doctor?” he asked, knowing this would not, could not, be a one-way exchange.

The Doctor looked surprised.  “Yes, Rory.  I do.”

“Fine.  What do I do?” Amy asked, all business.

“We should decide on the doors, before we begin,” the Doctor suggested.

Rory cried out as the pain hit a crescendo.  They helped him back onto the bed, and the Doctor gave him another sedative, though it barely touched the pain.  “I am sorry, Rory.  This is the best I can do.  Pain medication would interfere with the process.”

Rory nodded, breathing slowly.  “It is better, now.  More bearable.”

The Doctor looked at him for a long moment.  “You have been bearing far more than we realized, haven’t you?”

Rory lifted a shoulder.  He would not look at them.  How to explain that since Demon’s Run, he had felt more like Renatus than himself?  That he dreamt every night of his lost Melody, and of his other family.  He loved Amy desperately, but his love for that family that had never existed was just as real, just as strong, for the years had not dulled the keenness of his affection. 

When he finally looked up, he was no longer hiding behind the benign mask of the dependable nurse.  Amy gasped at the sight of her husband, looking at her with eyes far more ancient than the Doctor’s.  So much time, and so much pain.

“Oh, Rory, why didn’t you say?” she wept, wrapping her arms around him. 

“What was there to say?” he asked, resting his head on her shoulder.  “That in equal parts I love and loathe what was never real?  That I remember the horror of battles I never fought?  That… that I feel completely fucking insane?”

“That you were in pain, you idiot!” she cried.  “Who cares if it was real?  It was real, to you.  That’s good enough for me.”

“She’s right, Rory,” the Doctor said, his voice gentle as he stroked the back of Rory’s head.  “The memories may have been manufactured, but as soon as they became yours, they became real.  The love you attach to the family in your memory is real.  And the grief you feel for that family, as well as for Melody and Mels and River is real, as well.  You should not have to endure it, alone.”

Rory nodded as Amy held him, and the Doctor embraced them both.  “Now.  Doors.  I think seven would be ideal.  Like horcruxes.  Or dwarves.”

It did not take long to decide on the doors.  Rory’s memories seemed to fall into specific categories, as if of their own volition.  Renatus’ war memories would be locked behind a steel door, buried deep and not to be opened for any foreseeable reason.  Rory did not enjoy the Last Centurion’s PTSD.

The second door would hold Renatus’ fighting skills, and would be easily accessible.  As would the door holding Renatus’ family.  The time spent guarding the Pandorica would be divided between two doors – bad (to be buried almost as deep as the war door) and useful (moderately accessible).

The sixth door would hold the rebooted life without the Doctor.  Also moderately accessible – and only because it would hold information regarding Amy’s parents, the only real improvement that the rebooted universe offered, as far as Rory was concerned.

And the final door would be for Rory’s original life.  It would include the Raggedy Doctor and growing up with Amy and Mels and traveling with the Doctor and dying far too often.  It would include ceasing to exist and then pick back up on his wedding day.  This door would always be open.

“All right,” the Doctor said.  “Time to get started.  I don’t think you can take much more.”

Rory nodded.  The pain was growing stronger, again.

The Doctor closed his eyes and spoke to the TARDIS, asking her to watch over the process and assist, if needed.  “Amy,” he said.  “You can keep yourself busy for a while, yes?”

“Yes,” she said, hesitantly.  “You’ll be out for more than a few hours, won’t you?”

The Doctor sighed.  “I have asked the TARDIS to bring us around if more than a week passes.”

“A week?”

“Amy, listen.  If we cannot take care of this in a week,” he hesitated.  “I cannot guarantee that this will work.”

Amy nodded.  She reached out and took Rory in her arms.  “You come back to me, you understand, Mr. Pond?”

Rory gave her a weary smile.  “I will do my best, Amy.  But just know, if this doesn’t work…”

“Don’t you dare!” she snarled.

“Amy, please let me say this,” he winced.  Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I am _so_ tired.  If this doesn’t work, please know that that’s all right, too.  I don’t want to go, but I can’t go on, like this.”

“Rory,” she cried.

“Shh,” he soothed.  He smoothed her hair away from her face and dried her tears.  Then he kissed her tenderly.  “I love you, Mrs. Williams,” he smiled.

“I love you, Rory.”  She kissed him hard, and he tried not to cry out as the pain peaked again.  The Doctor discreetly gave him another dose of the sedative. 

When the couple parted, the Doctor pressed a button on side of the bed and it expanded to fit two.  “Hope you don’t mind getting cozy, Rory.”

“Roman, remember?” Rory said, holding his head. 

The Doctor turned to him, an eyebrow raised.  Rory smirked, feeling a small tremor of satisfaction at having surprised the Doctor.

The Doctor took off his coat and realized that his shirt was missing the arm.  He went behind a screen and changed into the pajamas from the cupboard.  When he came back out, he saw that Amy had helped Rory to change, as well.  He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and refused the shirt, saying his arm and head hurt.  “Just toss a blanket over me,” he said wearily, lying back on the bed. 

As Amy pulled a blanket from the cupboard and unfolded it, the Doctor attached IV’s to his arm and Rory’s.  They would need fluids and nourishment during the process, which he expected to take the entire week.  He also attached a small metal leech to Rory’s lower back, and then his own, for waste disposal, while they were out.

“Amy, I know this will be difficult, but I must ask you to leave us.”  She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand.  “What I am about to do will take time, and we do not have a lot of that to spare.  I will be able to focus better if there are no stray psychic energies floating around.  You, and your worry, may make it more difficult…” he looked at her, pleading for her to understand.

She nodded.  “I understand.  Will I be able to check in on the monitor, from the control room?”

The Doctor nodded.  “The TARDIS will seal off this room and make it comfortable.  The lights will be low, and we will not move, but yes, she will allow you to look in, from time to time.”  He hugged Amy.  “Try not to worry.”

She nodded, reaching out to touch each of them on the cheek.  “My boys.  Please come back to me.”

“Better than ever,” the Doctor smiled.

She hugged them both, and then ran from the room. 

***

 

[1] Little Aurelia

[2] Aelia, what happened to my sweet Aurelia?

[3] Where are my children?

[4] To be born again

[5] Wolf

[6] A rock solid person


	3. New Doors

The Doctor sighed as the door closed behind Amy.  “Okay, Old Girl.  Lock us in.”

The door closed, and then disappeared.  The lights dimmed, and the room grew a bit cooler.  Rory turned onto his right side, moved to the far side of the bed, and lifted the blanket.  The Doctor climbed in and lay on his left side, facing Rory.

Rory looked exhausted.  The blood loss alone would have made the day difficult, but the fever and the memories and the pain had depleted his reserves.  But he stared steadily at the Doctor, and the latter wondered once more how much his friend had been suffering in silence.  He realized that he was more than a little afraid that this wouldn’t work.

“It’s all right,” Rory smiled.  “I meant what I said.  I don’t want you to feel guilty, if this doesn’t work.  I love that you are willing to try.  That you are willing to do _this_ , for _me_.”

“You seem to know a lot about what is about to happen,” the Doctor said, frowning.  He could not stall for much longer, but they needed to become acclimated to sharing a space.

Rory smiled.  “If you are taking on my memories, you are essentially taking _me_ into yourself.  You will see who I really am.”  The Doctor felt the shudder that passed through his friend’s body.  He wanted to reach out, to console him, to let him know that nothing could tarnish his regard.  But it was not time, yet.

Rory seemed to give himself a shake.  “But that means I will see you, as well.  I don’t think you let many people do that, Doctor.  And I want you to know.  I am honored.”

“Oh, Rory,” the Doctor smiled.  “How is it that everyone always underestimates you?  You are _extraordinary_.”

The Doctor reached out with his left hand and slid it under Rory’s head, gently cradling his face.  Rory turned in to the touch, closing his eyes.  The Doctor’s eyes widened at the gesture, but in the next moment all distractions faded and he was shocked by the pain he sensed.  He took Rory’s right hand in his.  He felt Rory’s left hand close over his right, so that he was holding the Doctor’s hand in both of his. 

A gesture of trust. 

The gesture made the Doctor’s hearts ache with tenderness.  He took a deep breath.  It was time.  He leaned in so that their foreheads were touching.  “This may feel a bit strange,” he said as he reached out to enter Rory’s mind.  But something seemed to be blocking him.

After a few moments, Rory gave a shudder.  “I’m trying to let you in, but I…  I can’t.” 

The Doctor leaned back and opened his eyes.  “What is wrong?”

“I… I am so sorry.  When the universe rebooted.  I… I forgot you, Doctor,” he whispered, and the Doctor was startled by the shame and remorse rolling off of his friend.

“Rory, no one remembered me.  That was the point.”

“But I should have!” Rory cried.  “Of all the horrible things I have done, I think the worst things have been to Amy, Melody and you.  The three people I can’t bear the thought of hurting.  I could not save my own child.  I… I killed Amy – twice, now, and I forgot you.”  He took a deep breath.  “Can you just stay with me, and…  Let’s don’t do this.”

“Rory,” the Doctor frowned.  “I am not going to lie here and watch you die.”

“Then… then just take the memories,” Rory said, looking at the Doctor with those ancient, weary eyes.

“You are meant to be my friend, Rory!” the Doctor’s anger flared.  “How could you ask such a thing of me?”

“Because you know how this feels, I think.”  Rory closed his eyes.  The pain was exquisite.  They wondered how he endured the pain.  This was how.  He knew he deserved it.  So he accepted it.  Welcomed it.

The Doctor saw this, recognized it.  “Rory, the light took me.  From your perspective, I never existed.  It was the same when the light took you.  You forgave Amy for not remembering you.  Can you not forgive yourself?”

Rory gripped his hand, hard.  “Of course I forgave her.  But knowing how it feels, to be forgotten…  And _you_ didn’t forget me.”

“May I ask a question?” the Doctor frantically changed tack.  At Rory’s nod, he asked, “Why did you say that the rebooted universe was not really an improvement over the original?  I would think that a happy, well-adjusted Amy, growing up with both of her parents, would have been ideal.”

Rory frowned.  “I don’t know.  It just seemed… empty.  Like I was always waiting for something to happen, and then it never did.  Like something was… missing.”  His eyes widened.  “Or _someone_!”

The Doctor smiled a sad smile.  “So you did remember me, in a way.  You weren’t meant to, not even in such an ambiguous way.  And as for Melody.”  He sighed.  “Rory, according to the Teselecta’s database, my death is a fixed point.  So there is no way she could have been saved at Demon’s Run.  _Please_ do not blame yourself.  She had likely been taken away and replaced by the Flesh avatar well before we attacked.”

He leaned forward and kissed Rory’s forehead.  “And as for Amy…  Rory, the Amy at the Two Streams facility never existed.  And were two thousand years guarding the Pandorica not penance enough for an act over which you had no control?”

Rory shook his head, but after some time, he calmed.  The Doctor knew they had little time left, before it would be too late to even attempt to help.  “Rory?” he said in a low voice.  “Do not be startled, but I am going to kiss you, now.”  At Rory’s surprised look, he said, “We need to be quick, now, and it is the fastest way to establish the connection.”

The Doctor leaned in and gently brushed his lips against Rory’s.  Then, tentatively, he placed a chaste kiss upon Rory’s mouth.  He gave a nudge at Rory’s mind, and the resistance had softened, but it was still there.

He felt Rory trembling as he kissed him again, softly, but more fully.  Then he felt Rory’s hand on his face as the kiss deepened.  For a moment, the Doctor was swept away by the passion and tenderness of the kiss, almost forgetting why he had initiated it.  But he quickly remembered himself, and gave another nudge.

Their lips parted as he entered Rory’s mind, knowing they would have to talk about _that_ , at some point.  He rested his forehead against Rory’s and, with a whispered, “Oh, Rory,” he immersed himself in his friend’s mind.

Rory’s pain was breathtaking.  It took a moment to orient himself.

“Not sure there’s much to discuss,” Rory said laconically.  “Amy kissed you, too, after all.”

“Yes, but I didn’t kiss _her_ back,” the Doctor grumbled.

“Really?” Rory sounded surprised.  Amused.  Flattered.

“Try not to think of anything you do not wish me to know,” the Doctor said, realizing too late that the first thing one thinks about when told _not_ to think about an elephant, is an elephant.  In the next instant, he saw flashes of himself pass through Rory’s mind.  Some innocent, some that would have made Jack Harkness blush.

“You mean like that?” Rory asked innocently.

“Stop it,” the Doctor protested.

“We’re both here, Doctor.  There’s no hiding it.  No point in denying any of it.”

“But you’re with Amy!” the Doctor tried to be scandalized, but he was having a difficult time keeping his own thoughts from straying into forbidden territory.

Rory laughed.  “I would not have known you thought of me – or Amy – in that way, if not for this.  And you never knew I carried a torch until you kissed me.  It’s not cheating if it stays in my head and I don’t act on it.  And I won’t, unless Amy’s on board with it.”

“But it’s not staying in your head, now,” the Doctor grumbled.

"Well, technically, it is," Rory laughed. 

The Doctor heaved a sigh.  “Come on, then.  No time to waste.”

Figuratively speaking, the Doctor carried all of Rory’s memories into his own mind.  Once there, they constructed the doors, along with their containers, with each material, label and lock carefully selected.  Parsing out Rory’s original timeline, and everything since his wedding, the Doctor placed those memories behind the door marked “Rory”.  He pulled the door closed, intending to open it once more, once everything was back in place in Rory’s mind.

Next were the memories from the rebooted universe.  They were easily separated and placed behind the door marked “Reboot”.

Renatus’ early years went behind the “Renatus” door.  The years of his training were placed behind the “Martial Skills” door.  Then began the work of sorting through the years from Renatus’ first battle until the Pandorica.

It took less time than they expected to tease out the different aspects of Renatus’ adult years.  Battle was easy to separate.  The Doctor was horrified by what he saw go behind the “War” door.  He felt Rory’s pain and reached out to reassure him.  “It’s all right, Rory,” he soothed.

“If it is for me, then it has to be for you, as well,” Rory replied quietly.

“Battle and genocide are not the same thing, really.”  He sighed. 

“War is war,” Rory replied simply.

The Doctor could not contradict him.  He could not very well convince Rory that he was a good man, despite Renatus’ acts in battle, if he was unwilling to admit his own acts might be… _might be_ forgivable. 

They seemed to come to an agreement that Rory could accept the Doctor’s forgiveness, though he was as yet unable to find forgiveness for himself.  The Doctor, in turn, was surprised that he was able to accept Rory’s forgiveness, as well. 

After the “War” door was closed and deadlock-sealed, the remainder of Renatus’ pre-Pandorica years were easy to separate between “Renatus” and “Martial Skills”.

They were taking a rest, facing the one thousand, eight hundred and ninety-four years that Rory guarded the Pandorica.  “So,” the Doctor said.  “The quiet times.  Should they go behind the “Pandorica – Useful” door, or the “Pandorica – Do Not Open” door?

Rory shrugged.  At least, that was how the Doctor envisioned the response.  “Mind-numbing boredom does not seem particularly useful,” he said.

“But you survived it.  That is a skill, Rory.  Most people would have gone mad, under those circumstances.”

“I did that, too,” Rory said quietly.

“What?”

“Madness.  Tried it out for a decade or two, every now and then, when it became too much to endure.”

“Oh.”  The Doctor paused awkwardly.  “How… how did you stop?”

“Not sure, really.  For me, it was sort of an escape, and it was easy to scare people off, but I could step back into reality if I needed to focus.  Protecting Amy always took precedence over those little moments of self-indulgence.”

"I've never heard madness referred to as self-indulgence, before," the Doctor said, not entirely approving.

"For me, it was."

Long stretches of isolation and boredom went behind the “Do Not Open” door.  As did the fights Rory could not avoid.  The ones he was able to talk his way out of went behind the “Useful” door, as did the memories of meeting kind and interesting people.

The Doctor observed long stretches of memory where Rory stood vigil outside of the Pandorica, unresponsive to the curiosity of those who came to see the oddity (be that the box or the Roman).  Only if someone attempted to touch the box did he move, or even blink.  Plastic had its benefits. 

He never had physical ailments, which was a benefit.  But there was nothing to be done for the ache in his heart for what he had done to Amy, or the longing to see her, to hear her voice, the sorrow for the loss of the family that never was, or the sheer panic he felt as he watched a sky without stars.

So he just endured it.

What was more difficult was keeping his mind occupied.  Thankfully, the Pandorica (and its guard) were, through the ages, quite fascinating to scholars and philosophers.  They would come, with their students, and many would hold their classes in the shade of the Pandorica.  Rory was not always invited to participate, but he heard every word, whether invited or not.  He became quite adept at the puzzles and debates.  Scholars would come to him to learn what they could, and students would enlist his help in honing their skills.

These memories went behind the “Useful” door.

As the years passed, Rory had to judge when to be visible and when to avoid being seen.  There were fights and power plays and political posturing that had to be navigated, and Rory became quite skilled.

His reputation as a healer spread, as well.  Unable to turn anyone away when he knew he could help them, he brought all of his nursing skills to bear as the ill and injured were brought to him to be cured or comforted, for if he could not accomplish the former, he would certainly offer the latter.

In 1580 it took all of his strength not to travel to Venice and beg for help as the Doctor and Amy and his former self battled sexy vampire fish.  But he knew he could not.  That was the year he devolved into madness for the longest stretch. 

“Thirty seven years?” the Doctor asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Rory shrugged again.

“Rory, I am so sorry,” the Doctor reached out and embraced his friend, and odd thing to attempt when not really in the physical world, but the mental equivalent was a great comfort to them both.

“It passed the time,” Rory quipped, though he sounded pained.

The Doctor embraced him again before returning to the memories.  What had looked like an ocean was now more like a vast lake.  They were making progress.

“Speaking of which, how long have we been here?”

The Doctor sighed.  “Five days.  We still have a lot of ground to cover.”

They spent another day sorting, with Rory offering to take care of the early 20th century while the Doctor rested for a bit.  When they got to the warehouse fire in 1941, Rory said, “Do Not Open,” before the Doctor could even ask. 

“That bad?”

“The fire damaged the plastic terribly.  I began to realize that I had been waiting all of this time for Amy, but when the box finally opened, I wouldn’t be fit to…  And then I began to wonder what would happen, then.  I became convinced that you would think me an aberration and find some way to…”

“Rory,” the Doctor whispered.

“…and then you and Amy would fly off in the TARDIS.  Without me.  Again.”

“What a horrible thing to think of us,” the Doctor chided, feeling a pang of consciousness for having done just that.

“It was more about what I thought of myself,” Rory replied.  “I did not feel I deserved any mercy or forgiveness.  I actually… I looked forward to…”

“What?” the Doctor asked, troubled.

“I knew you would be merciful, whether I deserved it, or not.”

“I imagine you were quite weary, by that time.”

The Doctor felt Rory nod.  There were no words.

The lake was now the size of a pond.  The Doctor smiled.  “A duck pond.”

“Without any ducks,” Rory chuckled.  But his mirth faded.  “Ducks were gone by 1941.  No one else remembered any of the things that were disappearing, really.  It was terrifying.”

They were silent for a moment before addressing the final seventy years.  Rory took the bulk of the twenty years following the war.  He debated for some time what to do with the day the Pandorica reopened and they rebooted the universe.  Ultimately, he had the Doctor put it behind the “Useful” door, mostly because of how Amy had greeted him.

They heard a low hum as the last door was closed.  It was the TARDIS.  Their week was up.  The Doctor frowned.  “Wait, please.  We are almost done.  We are still fine.  I only need to move everything back.”

The hum quietened.  The Doctor sighed.  “I would like to show you something,” he said.  Mentally, he took Rory’s hand and walked through some of his own memories.  He showed Rory each of his previous faces.  He showed him his companions, as well.  He showed him Susan.  And his children.  “You will never forget them, Rory.  But so many years…  It gets harder to remember.  It can ease, if you allow it.”

“That actually sounds worse,” Rory said, dismayed.

“You are braver than I am, Rory.  You would rather be destroyed by the sorrow that honors them than forget them, merely to survive.”

“That is what I was doing, isn’t it?” Rory asked quietly.  “I didn’t realize.”

“I know.  But it was eating you up.  I am sorry it took this happening, for us to notice.”  He reached out to Rory, holding him close.  “Sometimes you seem so insubstantial.  All squashy and intensely emotive.”

“Thanks,” Rory deadpanned, stepping back.

“But that is why people underestimate you.  You are entirely composed of light.  And love.  And there is a fierceness to your loyalty that is never to be taken lightly.”

“Thank you,” Rory said more quietly.

“But that is why you must be careful, Rory.  So many years.  And you feel things, so deeply.  If you do not allow others to help you, you might drown in those depths you swim in.”

“I swim in the depths, because they hurt.  You stay away from them, for the same reason.  Which of us is actually the madman, here?” Rory asked, a sad smile in his voice. 

“Oh, I think a case can be made, either way,” the Doctor chuckled. 

He made to turn back, but Rory embraced him, this time.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“You may feel alone, but you are not.  Please know that.  And if you ever need to talk, I am here.”  He looked around.  “And now it is time to put you back together.” 

Moving as quickly and carefully as possible, the Doctor moved each compartment of Rory’s memory back into his own mind, arranging them according to desired accessibility.  He opened the “Rory” door, to be sure those memories were the most easily available.

The Doctor stayed for some time, ensuring everything was tidy.  He could feel Rory’s hippocampus return to normal as the effects of the vaccine wore off.  They had finished with very little time to spare.

Rory reached out to the Doctor.  “Thank you,” he said quietly, and as they embraced, the Doctor realized that the pain had eased.

“Rory, we have basically overhauled your entire memory center.  You will sleep for another week or more, and you will likely feel weak and disorientated for a while after you waken.  Do not be uneasy.  With your permission, I will check in with you, as you recover.  But I will likely require a few days of rest, myself.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor.  I’ve gotten pretty good at being on my own.”

“I know, but know that you will not be.”  He smiled.  “Time to wake up.”

They both opened their eyes as the Doctor leaned away from Rory. 

“Are you all right?”

Rory winced.  The room felt incredibly bright.  It was not, of course.  But the new arrangements in his head felt jarring, and everything felt numb.  He opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not.  His eyes widened and he began breathing fast.

“Shh.  No, you are all right.  Remember what I said.  Weak and disorientated.  It may take everything a while to readjust.

Rory reached out and caressed the Doctor’s face.  Then he leaned in and kissed him – a light, tender touch – before closing his eyes, exhausted. 

The Doctor felt his muscles protest and tendons creak as he climbed out of the bed.  He looked down at Rory for a long moment before leaning down and kissing him, again.  “Rest well, Rory.”

He reached out to the TARDIS and had her restore the door.  Within seconds, Amy barreled through it.  “It was more than a week!” she cried out, clinging to the Doctor, frantic.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, reorienting himself to Time outside his head.  “Only by seven hours,” he said, holding her away from him.  “All quiet here?”

She nodded, then brushed past him and climbed onto the bed beside Rory.  “Did it work?”

“I believe so,” the Doctor replied, padding around to the next bed over, careful not to tangle his IV line in anything.  He grabbed a blanket and lay down on the bed.  “He will probably sleep for another week, give or take.  I will probably sleep for several days, myself.  Wake me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Amy gave him a teary smile before lying down beside her husband.  In his sleep, he whispered her name and wrapped his arm around her, settling her next to him.

***


	4. The Calm, And Then the Storm

Three and a half days later, the Doctor gradually returned to consciousness, having slept more deeply and peacefully than he had in centuries.  He luxuriated in the feeling of slowly wakening, feeling deliciously comfortable.  The only oddity was a strange crunching noise. 

When he was finally awake enough to be bothered by the sound, he opened his eyes to see Amy sitting cross-legged beside him, eating cereal and staring down at him.  “Shouldn’t you be staring at your husband, Pond?” he asked, feigning crossness. 

Really, he was pleased to see her.  He yawned widely and stretched as she swallowed her cereal and made to reply.  “It was your turn.  I’ll spend a couple of hours here, a couple of hours over there.  Not much else to do.”

The Doctor looked around the med bay and saw books and magazines and screen tablets showing attempts at passing the time watching movies.  He thought he even spied a needlepoint hoop that she had taken up in her desperation to pass the time waiting for her boys to rouse.  “Oh, Amy.  I am sorry.”

“Don’t be!” she said, smiling.  “It’s enough to know that you’re both all right.”  She smiled, but he thought he noticed a touch of uncertainty behind her eyes.

The Doctor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “Amy, I am going to check on Rory.  Would you mind bringing some breakfast and tea?  I should be done by the time you get back, and we’ll talk.”

Amy jumped from the bed and left the med bay without a backwards glance.  The Doctor removed his IV and went around Rory’s bed, climbing in.  Rory had not moved.  Thankfully, the TARDIS was sending microvibrations through the bed, preventing his blood from settling and staving off bed sores.

He leaned towards Rory and pressed their foreheads together.  He was not surprised to see that Rory had been redecorating.  The “War” door had been pitched down a mineshaft, complete with old signs that said “Condemned” and “Do Not Enter”.  The “Pandorica – Do Not Open” door was actually the Pandorica, now.

The “Renatus” door was a proper Roman doorway, with pillared frame and stone lintel, and a mosaic on the threshold declaring “Salve”.   The “Martial Skills” doorway was hung with Renatus’ sword and shield.

The “Pandorica – Useful” door and the “Reboot” door were just doors.  But the “Rory” door… it took the Doctor’s breath away.  The doors to the TARDIS, with Rory’s key in the lock, one door ajar.  He stepped inside.

Rory was in the control room.  It was the TARDIS’ control room, though the corner Rory had carved out for himself had two of the coral struts that the Doctor’s ninth and tenth incarnations had enjoyed.  The Doctor was baffled until he remembered that Idris/Sexy had shown that control room to Rory and Amy. 

Strung between the coral branches was a tremendous hammock.  Rory was lying there, resting quietly, listening to something incredibly soothing that sounded as though it had come from Sylvan IV. 

No, Sylvan V, judging by the bubbles.

“Rory?” he asked tentatively.

“Hey,” Rory smiled tiredly.  He made no move to get up.  “Been three days, already?”

“And a half.  Are you all right?”

“Enjoying the peace,” he answered.  “It hasn’t been this quiet since I didn’t exist.”

“Very amusing,” the Doctor deadpanned, approaching Rory.  He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Rory’s.

“Aren’t you already doing that, topside?” Rory asked.

The Doctor straightened.  “Just checking.  You seem…”

“Completely and utterly knackered?”

“Yes,” the Doctor frowned.  “You shouldn’t have started redecorating.  You’re not up to it.”

“Yeah.  Found that out the hard way.  But it was done, by then.”  He scooched over on the hammock, making room for the Doctor to join him.

“So you’re done decorating?”  The Doctor lay down and found himself looking up through a skylight, watching the Orion Nebula pass.

“Yes.  Felt important to do what I did, but it feels done, now.”  He turned his head towards the Doctor.  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No,” the Doctor said.  “But every effort you expend here sets back your recovery.”

“How so?”

“You need to let yourself rest.  With everything that you held in, for so long, and the blood loss, the pain, and the rearranging we did… your reserves are depleted.  As in, you have none left.  You’ll need to sleep another week, at least, and you won’t be back to normal strength for an additional three.  At least.”

Rory frowned.  Then he sighed and nodded.  “Maybe you should drop me off at home, so I can rest without holding you two back.”

The Doctor finally turned to him.  Kissing Rory’s forehead, he said, “We are not leaving you alone, Rory.  You need to learn to let people help you.”

“But you two will be bored out of your minds.”

“Not this time,” the Doctor replied quietly.  “This is too important.”

They swung quietly for some time, staring up at the beautiful view.  After a while, the Doctor sighed and got up.  “Well, not bored, precisely, but not exactly patient in waiting to see how you fare.  Do you _feel_ that?”

“What, that sort of grating feeling?”

The Doctor looked sharply at Rory.  “Yes.”

Rory smirked.  “Welcome to my world.  Amy’s impatience has always felt like that.”

The Doctor laughed.  Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed Rory.  When he leaned away again, there was a look in Rory’s eyes that he had not seen before. 

Punch-drunk.

No, lust.  That was definitely lust.  “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be pondering the fact that this is all still in my head,” he said, his voice low, his eyes on the Doctor’s lips.

The Doctor suddenly felt very warm.  “I should go,” he said, tripping as he backed away.  He made his way back out, hearing Rory give a low chuckle.  “Definitely Roman,” he muttered as he composed himself and backed out of Rory’s mind.

When he leaned away from Rory’s sleeping form, he still felt a bit warm.  A bit disorientated, he asked, “Amy, is it me, or has Rory become a bit more… assertive, of late?”

“Well, he did get to punch Hitler, not too long ago.  But mostly it’s been in b…” she bit off the last word, and her eyes widened as the Doctor sat up, rubbing his forehead.  “Oh my God, he’s been flirting with you, hasn’t he?”  She looked far too delighted for the Doctor’s comfort. 

“I wouldn’t say flirting, precisely,” he hedged.

“I knew it!”  She looked exultant.

“Shouldn’t you… be jealous?”

She waved a dismissive hand.  “You said ‘cozy’, he said ‘Roman’.  You know, since our wedding, he’s been more… yes, assertive is a good word.  But since Demon’s Run… well, a while after, actually...  There’s been a wildness about him that he’s been fighting to contain.”

“He’s lived so many lives, now, Amy,” the Doctor said gently.  “Aren’t you concerned he may be… confused?”

“You know the plastic wasn’t really… functional, right?”

The Doctor closed his eyes.  He felt guilty for having this conversation without Rory conscious.  “Yes, but we’re talking about many, many years, and many, many emotions, and no real way to express them.”

She frowned.  “I should have been more concerned at the way he seemed to be holding back.  I should have noticed that he was fighting it.”

“Fighting what?”

“Allowing all of those lives, all of those emotions, to integrate.  It sounds like he’s finally letting that happen.”

“He did seem very much at his ease, just now,” the Doctor conceded.  “But he is exhausted.”

“Is this the part where you tell me he’ll sleep longer than you originally thought?”

The Doctor smiled.  “Yes.  All right?”

“Whatever he needs,” Amy nodded, sitting on the bed and kissing Rory’s forehead.  “He hasn’t moved.  Should we move him?”

“The TARDIS is ensuring his blood flow is optimized, and the bed is alternating pressure points to avoid bed sores.  He is fine.  And believe it or not, he is just sleeping, though admittedly, very deeply.”

“Will you tell me?”  She asked.  “About what you saw?  His memories?”

Rory had anticipated her request, and had told the Doctor he could share whatever he felt would help Amy make sense of the chaos in her husband’s head.  So as Rory slept, the Doctor spent the next week relaying stories to Amy.

“Tell me about Aelia,” she said one day, trying to sound offhand.

“Amy, she was you.  And,” he hesitated.  “And I’m not sure how, but Aurelia was Melody.”

“But how could that be?” she frowned.  “Oh, God, do I have to worry about _Rory_ having a time head, now?”

The Doctor chuckled.  Turning serious, he said, “He is incredibly intuitive.  Perhaps…” he sighed, unwilling to finish the thought.  “I honestly don’t know.”

She stared down at Rory, thinking.  “When he wakes up, it’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“For a bit, yes.”  He reached out and wrapped his arms around her.  “Now that things are better organized in his head, all of the emotional tumult he has been fighting and suppressing will have nowhere to hide.  He’ll have to let it out.”

“Does he know that?”

“I think so.”

“You should let him know.”

“You think so?  Might it be better to just let it happen?”

“I would want to be warned.  Wouldn’t you?”

The Doctor sighed.  “I’ll tell him next time I check in.”

He had been checking in every day, spending an hour or two at a time with Rory.  Sometimes he was reading his favorite comic, sometimes listening to music, sometimes sitting in silence, in darkness.  He was always happy to see the Doctor, and his fatigue seemed to be diminishing apace, but he seemed reserved, somehow.

“Rory, what is it?” the Doctor asked.

“It’s almost time to wake up,” Rory said quietly.  He was not flirting, today.

“Yes, any time, now.”  Rory had been asleep for ten days.  Amy’s patience had not waned, but her apprehension about Rory’s waking was growing.

“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

It was not lost on the Doctor that he framed his question in the same way Amy had.  He thought about hedging, but he was in Rory’s mind.  Prevarication was impossible, here.  “Yes, but you will not have to endure it alone, anymore.”

Rory nodded.  “I just…  I worry about…”

The Doctor understood.  “You worry the madness will return, if you let yourself grieve properly.”

Rory nodded again.

“Amy and I will not allow that to happen.  You can trust us to help you pull yourself back together, if you fall apart.  But you will not heal if you do not allow this.”

“I know,” Rory said quietly. 

He was sitting on a futon in the work area under the console.  The only light was the soft glow of the time rotor, far above.  The Doctor sat down beside him. 

“It seems so strange,” Rory murmured.  “I feel like I’m hiding, here.  Too feeble to face a few memories.”

The Doctor chuckled.  “’A few’, you say?  Rory, you were trying to cope with twenty times the human capacity for memory.  As soon as the TARDIS materialized at your wedding, you should have stroked out.  But instead, you cobbled together a ramshackle little door and danced with your wife.”

“But you have to admit, this is a bit odd.  I’m… camped out inside my own mind!”

“I think it’s brilliant,” the Doctor smiled and put an arm around Rory.  “I am actually tempted to get a futon for the TARDIS, now.”  After a moment, Rory relaxed, melting against him.  “They call me mad, you know,” he whispered against Rory’s ear.

“’There’s a fine line between genius and insanity.’”

“Gertrude Stein.  Fascinating creature.  Collected artists the way most people collect art.”  Then in a stage whisper he added, “ _Daddy issues_.” 

“You know, you walk that line with uncanny agility.  And grace.  And people love it, because it has a certain charm to it.  But me, I’m no genius.  So my insanity is all self-loathing and ugly crying.  It makes people uncomfortable.”

“I wish you could see what I see, Rory.  What Amy sees.  What everyone who loves you sees.”

“I have,” Rory whispered, leaning his forehead against the Doctor’s neck.  “Seen what you see.”  He was quiet for a moment.  “But I don’t understand it.  I feel so superfluous, sometimes.  You and Amy, you love the adventure.  And so do I, don’t get me wrong.  But you never sit still!  And sometimes…  Sometimes…”  Rory struggled for the words.  “I feel like something is wrong with me, because sometimes I want to just sit and be quiet.  And it’s _never_ quiet.”

The Doctor craned his neck to place a kiss on Rory’s temple.  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rory.  I should have noticed.”  He sighed.  “There are a lot of things I wish I’d done differently.”

“Like what?”

“Like ask you if there was something different about Amy.  I suspected something was off, from the day she told me she wasn’t pregnant, after all.  Maybe if I’d asked you that day, it would have turned out differently.”

“But you said… fixed point.”

“Yes, but still.  At least you wouldn’t be trying to blame yourself.  Rory, I am sorry I didn’t… check on you.  I should have.  I should have recognized your struggle.  I should have known that the weight of two thousand years is a heavy burden.”

“Technically, I’m more than twice as old as you, aren’t I?” Rory chuckled.

“Don’t change the subject,” the Doctor smirked.

“You made me let Renatus out,” Rory said quietly.  He felt the Doctor tense, and added quickly, “You were right to.  We needed him, for the fight.  But after Demon’s Run, he wouldn’t go back behind the door.  I feel like I’ve been fighting him, ever since, over which of us gets to live my life.”  He shook his head.

“Rory, Renatus _is_ you.  The reason you’re so exhausted is that you’re fighting yourself.”  He sighed as he felt Rory shaking his head.  “I understand why you wish to deny that part of you, but if you just accept Renatus as an aspect of yourself, you won’t have to fight him, anymore.  Let yourself be whole.”

“But the things he’s done!”  Rory pushed away from the Doctor and stood, his back to the Doctor.  “You’re asking me to… to admit that they were the things _I_ did when I was him…”  His shoulders slumped.  “The things _I’ve_ done,” he whispered.  “You were appalled.  I know you were.”  He started shaking.

“Rory,” the Doctor stood and wrapped his arms around Rory, catching him as he collapsed to his knees.  “I was appalled by the things the gentlest man I’ve ever known was forced to do, the situations you found yourself in.  But never by you.  _Never_ by you, Rory.” 

He scrambled around to face Rory, pressing their foreheads together.  “You _know_ I am not lying, that I’m not just being kind.  You know I don’t – couldn’t possibly – think less of you for the life Renatus led before he remembered he was Rory.”  He paused, hoping his next words would not hurt Rory.  “How can you deny that you were Renatus, if you claim his children as your own?”

Rory fell away from the Doctor and sat down, hard.  He looked up at the Doctor, sorrow etched into his features.  “You’re right,” he said quietly, looking away, nodding.  “You’re right.”

“Rory?”  The Doctor sat down beside him as he began rocking, to and fro.

“I loved those children.  _So much_.  It would have surprised my men.  They swore the wolf had no heart.”  He shook his head.  “No one would ever describe me as fierce.  But Renatus…”  He snorted.  “ Aelia was the mild one.  So steady, so patient.  Maybe she got my personality, and I got Amy’s.”

The Doctor chuckled.  “No, I think you’ve always been fierce, Rory.  In your love, in your loyalty.  It was forced out in a different way in Renatus’ life.  Aelia had to be mild, because if she had been like Amy, you two would have been the death of one another.”

Rory let out a laugh, but seemed to choke on it as it changed into a sob.  “Oh, God…” he gasped.

The Doctor was pushed from Rory’s mind as the latter woke, still choking and sobbing.  “I… can’t… do this,” he panted, sitting up.

“Shh, yes you can, Rory,” the Doctor soothed, holding Rory’s face in his hands.  He felt Amy sitting beside him, reaching out for her husband.

Amy somehow attached herself to Rory, holding him as he wrapped one arm around her and the other around the Doctor.  She ended up sandwiched between her boys as Rory buried his head in the Doctor’s neck.  “We’re here, Rory,” she whispered.

“Just breathe, Rory,” the Doctor murmured.  “Just let it flow through you.  It’s worse if you fight it.  Just let it happen…”

***

In the next minutes, hours and days, Rory Williams came undone.  He wept, he raged, he allowed the madness to overtake him.  It was heartbreaking and terrifying to witness.  At one point the Doctor was forced to restrain him when he became violent, though he did not lash out at anyone but himself, clawing at his chest in an attempt to tear out the heart that pained him so tremendously, and yet treacherously insisted upon continuing to beat.

Amy held his face between her hands as the Doctor healed the gouges in his skin and washed the blood off of his hands.  She had known him since they were children.  She may have missed centuries, but she still knew how her husband’s heart beat, and how to make him hear her.  Her anger brought him back to himself, and then her tenderness soothed him.  By the time his injuries were healed, he was weeping again, but calm enough to be released from the restraints.

And so it went.  It took several days for the worst of the grief to be expressed.  Rory was barely coherent, most of the time, but when he was calm enough, he spoke of the loved ones he had lost, the loneliness of the years watching over the Pandorica, and the tremendous guilt of having harmed Amy.

It was clear he had chosen to accept Renatus as a part of himself, and the Doctor was surprised (and yet not) at how quickly that inner conflict settled.  It would seem that Renatus was not fighting to live Rory’s life, merely to be acknowledged as a part of it.

Rory did not sleep for four days.  He could not eat, though he made an attempt each time the Doctor and Amy ate.  The Doctor kept the IV attached as Rory’s already lean frame became even thinner.  The Doctor and Amy spent all of their time with Rory, though they did take turns sleeping.  They did not leave him alone, knowing he needed them in order to stay grounded.

Amy wept with him over Melody, remembering the horror of her child liquefying in her arms.  Her grief began to bring Rory back to himself, and he held her as she shared in his sorrow.  The Doctor held both of them close, his hearts breaking for the loss he had been unable to prevent.

When Rory finally slept again, it was a relief to them all.  The Doctor hoped that the worst of it was over, though he knew they were not quite done, yet.  He and Amy collapsed on either side of Rory, relieved that he was finally resting.

***


	5. Something Good

When Rory woke, he found Amy and the Doctor entwined around him.  Each was holding the other, but also holding Rory close, almost protectively.  His heart swelled with love for them both.  In what felt like the first time in a very long while, he felt something other than pain or sorrow.  He sank further into their embrace, savoring the feelings of safety and comfort, and trying to ignore the terrible headache caused by the near constant weeping.

He felt the Doctor shift, then heard the distinctive whirring of the sonic screwdriver.  Like a breath of fresh air, the swelling in his sinuses receded and the headache abated.

“Thank you,” he whispered, turning his head to see the Doctor propped up on an elbow behind him. 

The Doctor returned the sonic to the bedside table and turned back to Rory.  “How do you feel?”

“Wrung out,” he breathed.  “Numb.”  Feeling lost and empty, he shifted, pulling Amy closer to him.

“Rory?” she murmured, looking up at him, unkempt and insanely beautiful.

“Please,” he closed his eyes, squeezing her tight with one arm while reaching behind with the other to draw the Doctor closer to him.  “Please,” he whispered, sounding almost desperate.

“Please what, Rory?” the Doctor asked.  “What can we do?”

“I’m so tired of feeling horrible,” Rory rasped.  “Please, I just want to feel…  Please make me feel something not horrible.  Make me feel… something good.”  He bent down and kissed Amy with an urgency that she had never felt from him, before. 

“I should…” the Doctor began, moving to leave them.

“No!” Rory broke from Amy and reached back, tangling his hand in the Doctor’s hair and pulling him in for an equally frantic kiss.

The Doctor tried to balk, but Rory held firm.  So many things flew through the Doctor’s mind – _this would not be right, it would be taking advantage, Oh, God – what about Amy?_

Rory released him and looked into his eyes.  “Yes it would, no it wouldn’t, and…” he looked at his wife, who was staring up at the two of them, transfixed.  “Yeah?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, please,” she smiled lasciviously.  “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you two to get on board with this.”

“Amy!” the Doctor blurted, shocked. 

In the next moment, she kissed him, hard and fast.  “Argue later.  Rory needs us, Doctor,” she looked at him intently, sensing his hesitancy.  “Be honest, he was heading in this direction before all of this hit, yeah?”

“You two,” the Doctor growled, looking from one to the other before taking Rory by the chin and turning his head so he could kiss him.  Nothing tentative or awkward in this kiss – they both took to it like breathing.  They felt Amy shifting, and when they finally broke apart, they saw that she had taken off her clothes, and was working on pulling Rory’s sweatpants down and off. 

The Doctor disconnected the IV and the leech, tossing everything out of the way as Rory turned over.  With Amy kissing and nipping his neck and shoulder, he kissed the Doctor again, unbuttoning his pajama top and pulling it off with surprising speed.  Rory wrapped his arms around the Doctor and one hand tracked down his smooth, cool skin, finding its way into the pajama bottoms and giving the Doctor’s arse an appreciative squeeze.

Soon all three were naked and kissing, touching, and exploring one another.  Amy pulled Rory to face her again and as she kissed him, she took hold of him, causing him to gasp.  She gave him a long, teasing pull and watched as he leaned back, his eyes closed, savoring the sensation even as another began to compete for his attention. 

The Doctor planted a kiss on each vertebra as he made his way down the bed, his lips, tongue and hands exploring the most exquisite skin he had tasted in centuries.  When he reached the base of Rory’s spine, he reached out and gave that scrumptious arse a bite.

Rory moaned in response, and then gave a small cry of surprise and pleasure as he felt the Doctor’s tongue at his hole.  The Doctor then proceeded to shut down Rory’s brain with that clever tongue and one long, beautiful finger. 

He gasped with pleasure as the Doctor made his way back up the bed, following the path of Rory’s spine with the flat of his tongue in a long, delicious lick.  A second finger joined the first as the Doctor kissed Rory’s shoulder and neck.

As the Doctor had made his way up the bed, Amy made her way down.  The Doctor was scissoring his fingers, preparing Rory for a greater invasion, and the sensation was almost too much.  It felt as though a lightning bolt struck behind his eyes as Amy took his cock into her mouth.  He let out a strangled curse and felt his body try to surge forward towards her at the same time it tried to surge backwards towards the Doctor’s ministrations.

Very slowly, the Doctor withdrew his fingers, and Rory heard himself whimper at the loss.  “Shh,” the Doctor whispered, licking Rory’s neck before nipping at his jaw.  “Amy, we need to resituate ourselves.”

She released Rory, and he groaned again.  His breathing was heavy and uneven, and he felt the Doctor help him to sit up.  “Here,” he said, pulling a pair of low stools from beneath the bed.  They looked like narrow, cushioned ottomans.  The Doctor helped Rory to kneel, one knee on each.  They were situated just far enough apart for the Doctor to fit himself between Rory’s legs.

“Amy,” the Doctor’s voice was low and rough in Rory’s ear.  Rory felt the Doctor’s erection pulsing against him, and he pushed back towards him.  “Patience, Love,” the Doctor whispered, nipping Rory’s ear.

Rory was coherent enough to realize that the height of the ottomans situated him perfectly before the Doctor, and they also situated him perfectly before the bed as Amy spread her legs and guided his erection towards her.  It was not the first time he’d had the impression that the TARDIS liked to facilitate these little details, but it was the most obvious tinkering he’d ever seen with the logistics of what his loves wished to do with him.

Amy had stopped with the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.  He tried to move forward, but she held him where he was.  “Shh,” she soothed, kissing him.  She scraped her bottom teeth along his jaw, kissed his neck, bit his shoulder, and attached herself to his nipple, biting, then sucking and licking.  All while holding his eager cock at bay.  He vaguely wondered why she was so intent on driving him mad.

Then he felt it.  The Doctor’s fingers had returned, making him throw his head back and moan loudly.  They were slick with lube, and when they left him, he knew the Doctor was pouring the same stuff all along his own cock.  He moaned again in anticipation, and in pleasure at Amy’s attentions.

“Oh, God, the noises you are making!” Amy exclaimed, claiming his mouth.

And then he felt the Doctor pressed against him.  Hot breath puffed at his ear as the Doctor pushed into him, patiently, slowly, little by little, until his cock was completely buried in Rory’s arse.  He stilled for a moment, allowing Rory to adjust to the invasion.  Then he pushed Rory forward, just a bit, and Amy released her hold, and in one swift move he was buried, deep in her cunt.

The sensation of filling and being filled was overwhelming, and he cried out.  Somehow, they knew to be still as he acclimated to the surfeit of sensation.  They kissed and soothed and stroked as he adjusted, and the Doctor knew the exact moment that he was ready for more.  He pulled out, slowly, slowly, and then began plunging back in, his strokes deep and hard.

It was perfect.

“Oh, God,” Rory cried out.  Pinioned between his two lovers, he could not move properly.  Amy was grinding against him, and the Doctor…  Well, the Doctor was fucking him well past madness.

“Oh, Rory,” the Doctor whispered raggedly.  “Oh, you’ve missed this, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Rory whimpered as Amy licked up the column of his neck.

“Once you reach a certain rank, you’re expected to top.  And nothing in the world wrong with fucking… But every now and then, nothing beats being fucked, does it?”

Rory couldn’t answer.  One hand was behind him, grasping the Doctor’s arse, fingers digging into the soft flesh.  The other was wrapped around Amy, grasping her arse.  His head fell back against the Doctor’s shoulder and his body strained, reaching… reaching…  So close, but not there yet. 

He heard Amy’s panting breaths and opened his eyes to see her, looking at him with such ferocity, he felt electricity shooting down his spine, just at the sight of her. 

Then Rory felt the Doctor’s hand at his throat.  And wasn’t that just dark and erotic, and a bit dangerous, despite their trust in one another?  “Just keep that in mind, Rory,” the Doctor continued his whispering, giving Rory’s ear a lick and then a bite, for good measure.  “Because it’s been a good long while since anyone has fucked me, to my satisfaction.  But I think you might be the man to do it.”  Rory felt Amy tightening around him, and the Doctor bent his knees and thrust into Rory _just so_ …

“Come along, Ponds,” he gritted.

Rory came through his entire pelvic girdle – his cock and his balls and his arse… _Holy fuck, his entire body was orgasming._ The light behind his eyes blinded him as he let out a primal scream as the orgasm flowed in wave after wave after wave.  He felt Amy shout as her orgasm peaked, and her pleasure exploded in his head.  And then he felt the Doctor come undone with a loud groan, and whatever had not already been light went supernova…

***


	6. A Not-Roman Bath

When Rory finally returned to his senses, he was drenched in sweat.  Amy was collapsed against his chest, and he was leaning against the Doctor.  He felt the slightest trembling that told him that the Doctor was not as steady on his feet as one might wish.  But he was too weak to move, other than to turn his head and place a kiss on the Doctor’s neck.

The Doctor, who had been drifting amiably along, having asked the TARDIS to kindly keep him from collapsing, opened his eyes and smiled at Rory.  “All right, Love?” he asked quietly.  He leaned down and kissed Rory tenderly.

Amy began to stir.  “I would suggest a shower, but do we even know if Rory can stand?  He hasn’t left this bed in three weeks.”

“A bath it is,” the Doctor exclaimed, but in a more muted way than his usual mania.  He reached out and asked the TARDIS for a bathing chamber, and a door appeared behind him.

He bent his legs and gently extricated himself from Rory, who gave a low moan, and then another as he left the warmth of Amy’s body.  The Doctor and Amy both supported him as he moved on shaking legs towards the new door.

As the door opened, they were met by a warm, humid atmosphere.  Rory stopped and stared, then began backing away from the perfect replica of a Roman bath.  He could not find his voice to say, “I can’t…”, but the sentiment was writ across his features as he turned pained eyes to the Doctor, shaking his head.

“Rory, shh,” the Doctor gathered him in his arms.  He asked the TARDIS to change the room, also finding that she needed soothing.  She was horrified at causing her Pretty distress.  “We’re fine,” the Doctor consoled pretty much everyone as the room changed around them.

It was now a lovely garden bath overlooking the Fire Nebula of Zelnor.  The water was hot enough that it took them several minutes to settle into it.  The Doctor sat on a bench along the side of the pool, the water up to his shoulders.  He pulled Rory to sit on the ledge, between his legs.  He rather enjoyed the feeling of Rory resting his head against his shoulder.  Amy straddled the two of them, sitting on Rory’s knees.

She reached out and washed the Doctor’s hair, and once it was rinsed, she and the Doctor turned their attention to Rory, washing his hair, and then shaving him.  “Not that I don’t like the beard,” Amy winked as she rinsed his face and ran her cheek along the smoothness of his jaw.

Next to be washed was Amy’s hair.  Rory tried to return the favor, having enjoyed the sensation of four hands massaging his scalp.  But he was too weak.  Giving her a kiss, he shifted to the side, and Amy, now sitting on the Doctor’s knees, was able to enjoy her shampoo.

It wasn’t long before their attention was diverted from rinsing her hair to flirtation.  They shared several kisses, and Rory wondered if they would remember him before taking it further.  He was surprised to find that this was not a jealous thought. 

They were beautiful together.

Soon they were kissing in earnest, and as Amy slid forward on the Doctor’s lap, they both seemed to catch themselves.  “Oi.  Get over here,” she said, glancing at him with a smile.

He returned her smile, but shook his head.  “Ego hinc frui visum.”[1]

The Doctor spoke over Amy.  “Why just enjoy the view, when you can enjoy the sensation?”

“Spiritus quidem promptus est.”[2]  He shook his head again.  He looked haggard with fatigue, but he smiled.  “Sed utrumque simul speciosae.”[3]

Rory leaned his head back and enjoyed the heat of the water, watching to see what they would do next.  The Doctor stared at him for a long time.  He reached out and took Rory’s hand.  “Es certus?”[4]

Rory chuckled. 

“What’s happening?” Amy asked.  She was disconcerted by the Latin.

“Rory is tired, but he says we are beautiful together.”  He reached out and kissed her behind her ear.  She shivered, but seemed unconvinced, so he gave her earlobe a nip.  “Shall we show him something beautiful?”

They began kissing, and before long, Amy had shifted herself onto the Doctor.  Rory watched, fascinated.  He again marveled at his own lack of jealousy, but at this point, he wasn’t sure which one he might be more jealous of, anyway.  They really were stunningly beautiful together.  Amy was so close, he could tell.  How long had she wanted this?

If he was a bit surprised that he was not jealous, he was stunned that he was not aroused, with all of the moaning perfection before him.  But upon reflection, it was not terribly worrying.  He well remembered coming home from long double shifts at the hospital, inexplicably and uncharacteristically uninterested in Amy, at least until a meal and a nap had restored him.

He had never felt so tired in his life, and he could not remember his last meal, so he was not terribly concerned.  Seemed a terrible waste, though.  Perhaps he could arrange an encore, when he was feeling better. 

Perhaps a similar tableau, with the water shining off of Amy’s perfect breasts, just so, as she rode the Doctor.  Enough to make a man feel like a god, that.  Or perhaps the Doctor, glistening up on the side of the pool as Amy went down on him…  Or maybe Rory could do the honors.  As he recalled, he could give a magnificent blow job, when properly motivated…

“Rory!  Fuck!” the Doctor cried out as he came, squeezing Rory’s hand, hard.  Rory hadn’t even realized that the Doctor was still holding his hand, maintaining that connection, listening to his thoughts.

As they calmed, Amy started laughing.  “You know, I ought to be offended, you screaming out someone else’s name!”

The Doctor looked appropriately sheepish.  “I am sorry, Amy, but your husband…” he wagged a finger crossly in Rory’s direction.  “All I can say is, if that is how your mind works when you’re too tired to be aroused,” he found himself chuckling, in spite of himself.  “I find myself more than a little intrigued.”

“What?” Amy looked amused and curious.

“Shall I show her?” the Doctor chuckled.  He pressed a hand against her temple for a moment.

“Ooh, Rory,” Amy purred, moving to sit next to him.

As amused as he felt, he was beginning to have difficulty holding his eyes open.  Amy and the Doctor finished bathing him, using the softest cloths and the silkiest soaps.  They were quick, but thorough, and he felt refreshed as they helped him from the bath. 

One steadied him as the other helped to dry him, and then they went through the far door, which now connected to their bedroom.  Rory closed his eyes at the sensation of the mild air of the bedroom cooling his bath-heated skin.  He swayed a bit on his feet, and the Doctor and Amy helped him to the bed.

“Can you eat something?” the Doctor asked hopefully.  Rory shook his head.  “Well, sleep now, but we’re going to wake you in two hours, and if you still can’t manage to eat, we’ll have to go back to the med bay and the IV.

Rory merely nodded as he lay down on the bed.  He looked up at them, embarrassed.  Looking away, he cleared his throat.  “Mane mecum?”[5]

“Of course we’ll stay with you, Rory,” the Doctor replied softly. 

He and Amy climbed into the bed, once again surrounding their beloved in comfort and safety and love.

***

 

[1] I shall enjoy the view from here.

[2] The spirit is willing.

[3] But you two are so beautiful together

[4] Are you sure?

[5] Stay with me?


	7. On Love And Grief.  And Love

“Doctor, why was he speaking Latin, again?” Amy asked in a worried whisper.

“Temporarily overloaded his circuitry,” the Doctor murmured.  “He’ll be fine.  But we might have overdone the intensity of that… encounter.”

“Are you saying we literally blew his mind?” she snickered.

She startled when Rory spoke up.  “You’re not going to hear me complain about it.  Not in English, anyway.”

The Doctor chuckled and turned on his side to look at Rory.  “How are you?”

“I may actually be a bit hungry,” Rory smiled.

“Excellent!” the Doctor made to get up, but Rory reached out and ran his hand through the Doctor’s hair.  The Doctor closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, making a soft “Hmm,” deep in his chest.

Rory leaned in and kissed the Doctor.  “Right,” he heard Amy say.  “Rory, you need to eat.  I’ll go fix a tray.  Tea and toast, I think.  You two try not to get too carried away.”

The two kissed lazily for some minutes, and the Doctor wondered when he last merely kissed someone, just for the enjoyment of it.  One of Rory’s hands was in his hair, and the other arm was wrapped around him, holding him securely.  That hand was tracing a slow line up and down the Doctor’s spine. 

Rory’s mind was curiously blank.  Calm.  His heart was more at ease, as well, though full to bursting.  He had no idea how he could love two people, at once.  It had always been Amy.  Always.  But now, he wondered how long it had always been the Doctor, as well. 

 _Te amo._  

The Doctor heard Rory’s thought and pulled away with a groan.  “You’re going to break my hearts, you know that?  You and Amy?  You’ll each take one of my hearts, and then break them both.”  He sighed, torn between kissing Rory again and leaving his embrace, altogether.

“We’re only human, Doctor.  We only have a small window of time to spend with you, compared to your years.  But we will love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Or the rest of mine,” the Doctor said, remembering once more the information in the files from the Teselecta.  He was not afraid, but nor did he wish for his long life to end, just yet.

Rory shook his head.  “I was there.  I saw it happen.  And yet…  It didn’t feel _real_.  So I hold out hope that somehow, it wasn’t.”  He sighed.  “No, someday we will probably have to leave you, rather than the other way around.  And four hearts will likely break, on that day.”

He leaned his forehead against the Doctor’s.  “And I will understand if you need to forget us, in order to move on.”  He felt the Doctor flinch, but Rory held him steady.  “I promise you, we only want what’s best for you, and I won’t tell Amy.  But please know that I understand.”  He kissed the Doctor.  “But until that happens, we have all the time there is.”

He kissed him again.  “We have now,” he whispered, giving another kiss.  “And now.”  Kiss.  “And now.”  Another long, lingering kiss that left the Doctor trembling.  “And isn’t this,” he pulled the Doctor’s naked body flush against his, “a far better thing to regret, than wondering what might have been?”

“Oh, Rory,” the Doctor sighed, finally relaxing against him.

“Despite these past few weeks, I still believe the love is worth the pain.  I would not sacrifice one moment of the love I have felt, just to ease the pain.  And you.  You have loved _so much_.  I don’t think you would, either.”

“How do you know I’ve loved?” the Doctor asked, squirming.

Rory kissed him until he stilled.  “Because you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of softening those memories, if you had not loved so deeply.  You would not have those people enshrined in such a special place, in your mind.”

“My mind,” the Doctor mused.  “Was it terrifying?”  Trying to lighten the conversation.

“Of all the places you have taken me,” Rory said, catching the Doctor’s eye and caressing his face, “I think it is the most beautiful.”

“Rory,” the Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise.  He pulled Rory close, fighting the emotion rising.  A lone tear escaped as he whispered, “Tam insignis.  Te quoque amo.”[1]

The Doctor felt something akin to a growl rumble through Rory’s torso.  Rory pulled back far enough to catch the Doctor’s mouth in a scorching kiss.  For a long moment, they moved together, tongues tangling, hands searching.  Rory rolled the Doctor onto his back and pulled one of his legs up around his waist as the other wrapped around his thigh. 

They continued moving together, enjoying the friction of their cocks rubbing together.  Rory reached out and pulled a bottle of lube from the bedside table without breaking contact.  With one hand, he opened the bottle and poured enough out onto his hand before setting it aside and reaching down.

The Doctor gasped as Rory took both of their cocks in hand and gave a few firm pulls before releasing them and trailing his hand further down.  He was two fingers deep in the Doctor’s arse when Amy walked in with the tray.

“Okay.  Carried away, after all,” she smirked.  She set the tray down and was about to join in the fun when she decided to watch, instead.  She sat in a chair close to the bed where she was able to enjoy watching the hottest, sexiest, most beautiful thing she’d ever witnessed.

The Doctor protested when Rory removed his fingers, but smiled his approval as Rory reached for the bottle.  He poured a generous amount onto his hand and stroked his weeping cock as the Doctor watched hungrily.  He pressed the head of his cock into the Doctor, feeling the muscles tighten before relaxing. 

Rory leaned down and kissed the Doctor deeply as he slowly pushed the rest of the way into him.  They both broke the kiss with a gasp when Rory was fully seated in the Doctor.  “You feel incredible!” Rory exclaimed, claiming the Doctor’s mouth again, keeping as still as possible as the Doctor relaxed around him.

“Rory,” the Doctor gasped.  “Please.”

With infinite care and an ancient patience, Rory began moving inside the Doctor.  Amy’s breath caught.  She knew Rory was gorgeous, but to see him, like this.  He was absolutely flawless.  As she watched, Rory set a pace that was slow and steady. 

She recognized this – it was how he had claimed her on their wedding night.  So, so slowly – it had felt painfully slow, and she had begged him for more, but he had kept that pace, bringing her off so intensely that the memory of it still made her squeeze her thighs together in desire.  Seeing him doing the same thing to the Doctor had her hand inside her knickers before she knew what she was doing.

Rory leaned back from kissing the Doctor, and the latter took the opportunity to reach for his cock, to give it a stroke.  But Rory brushed his hand aside and, with a hand still slick with lube, he took hold of the Doctor, making him gasp his name.

Rory gave a firm downward stroke as he plunged into the Doctor, and as he moved back out, he stroked up, mimicking his own sensations.  The Doctor groaned and tried to surge up into Rory, to quicken the pace, but Rory leaned back into him, kissing him even as he continued the maddening pace.

“Rory,” the Doctor whispered in a pleading tone.  “Faster.”

“No,” Rory grinned at the surprise that lit the Doctor’s face.  He rolled his hips and was rewarded by a loud moan as he found the Doctor’s prostate, or whatever the Time Lord equivalent might be. 

Rory kept the same pace, but his strokes became more forceful.  Every few thrusts, he rolled his hips again.  Soon the Doctor was cursing and then clearly just babbling in Gallifreyan, though there did seem to be a bit of Latin thrown in, for good measure. 

Rory, who loved to talk during sex, was silent.  This only happened during the most intense of his experiences.  Now, with each of the Doctor’s exclamations, he only looked more fierce.  More possessive.  More wild.  Amy’s hand moved faster.

Amy noticed that Rory was edging the Doctor, rolling his hips less frequently as the Doctor grew closer to orgasm.  She was surprised to recognize something that she had never noticed before, when in the throes of her own passion with a teasing Rory. 

He was straining to maintain control.  The pleasure of his partner was paramount, and she watched as he bit back his own moan.  She could see when he had reached his limit, not because he finally began moving any faster, but because he could no longer keep himself from making those sounds that always drove her over the edge.

The Doctor’s eyes had flown open at the first noise Rory had made since that growl that had made the Doctor’s cock leap to attention.  Rory was rolling his hips, hitting _that spot_ again and again.  The Doctor was well past coherence, but those noises had his orgasm building, higher and higher.  “Yes, please,” he pleaded, needing release. 

Rory opened his eyes, watching the Doctor watch him.  “Say it again,” he growled, his eyes stormy with an intensity that took the Doctor’s breath away.  Never had he seen such a wild look of love on anyone’s face.

“Te amo, Ren,” he gasped, watching Rory’s eyes widen and face darken before he lost control. 

Rory never broke that pace, even as he began to come.  He let out a growl as the first waves began to crash, and that sent the Doctor screaming into his own orgasm.  Amy gasped at the sight of the two of them, who were both being deliciously loud as they found their release.  She climaxed intensely, seconds later.

Rory collapsed bonelessly onto the Doctor’s chest, and there they stayed, arms and legs wrapped around one another, for quite a while.  Amy got up and went to wash her hands and splash some cool water on her face.  When she returned, she saw Rory reaching up to kiss the Doctor, again and again.

She felt a pang of jealousy, but then brutally squashed it.  Rory loved her.  There was nothing in her existence more certain than that.  And she also knew that if anyone had a heart big enough to have room for two people, it was Rory.  She was not convinced she would be so magnanimous if it was anyone besides the Doctor that her husband was snogging, but since it was the Doctor, she found herself quite pleased.

“So have you been fucked to your satisfaction, Doctor?” Rory asked, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The Doctor chuckled.  “Well beyond my satisfaction, my Love,” he reached up and kissed Rory again.

“You called me Ren,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Do you mind?” the Doctor smiled up onto that beloved face.  “It… it is how I see you, like this.  Not Rory, Amy’s husband, not Renatus, the Roman, not the wolf… To me, when we love, you are Ren – the best of all your many years.”

Rory rested his forehead against the Doctor’s for a moment, overwhelmed.  Then he kissed the Doctor’s neck before gently withdrawing.  “A shower, I think,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

The Doctor still felt like goo, so he did not move quickly enough.  “Rory, wait.”

Rory stood, but his legs were too weak to support him.  Amy caught him before he fell, helping him to sit back on the side of the bed.  Suddenly dizzy, he lay back down, his head resting on the Doctor’s abdomen.  “What the hell?” he asked, trying to will the room to stop spinning.  “I was fine, just now…”

“Probably a matter of blood flow,” Amy chuckled.  “Doctor, when you’re able, help me get Rory showered, and then we need to make him eat.”

Once Rory was showered and dressed in his pajama bottoms, the Doctor and Amy helped him to eat.  Amy had prepared a thick, hearty broth that was quite tasty.  The promised tea and toast was also on offer, along with scones with clotted cream and jam, strawberries, and several other of Rory’s favorites.  The broth filled him up, but he ate a strawberry and a bite of toast before returning to bed with a cup of tea.

Once the Doctor and Amy had finished eating, they joined Rory, once again wrapping themselves around either side of him.  “My Loves,” he whispered, kissing Amy and then the Doctor.  “Thank you for taking such good care of me.  I am sorry…”

“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Amy said, putting a crimson painted finger to his lips.  “You were injured.  And we love you.  Of course we will take care of you.”  She kissed him tenderly.  “Always.”

“Injured?”  Rory frowned.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Everything’s muddled.  I thought I just had some sort of breakdown, over Melody and Mels and River.”

Amy took some minutes to explain to Rory about Barcelona, and the dog, and the pathogen.  “And when you’re feeling better, we’re going to have a little discussion about this habit of suffering in silence.”  She turned her glare from Rory to the Doctor, to be sure they both understood her impatience with any more of this nonsense, from either of them.

The Doctor cleared his throat.  “You probably saved my life, Rory.”

“What?” he and Amy asked.

“The hippocampus of a Time Lord is not meant to be dilated.  Well, no one’s is, really, but for a Time Lord, it can be particularly dangerous.”  He picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on the sheet covering them.  “Total neural collapse.”  He cleared his throat.  “And I never thanked you, before.  There never seemed to be the right moment.”

“Thanked me?” Rory asked, confused.

“You saved my life that day, under the earth.  And you were erased from time, for your troubles.  I…”  He cleared his throat again.  “I should have thanked you, before now.  And now I should thank you twice.”  The Doctor sat up and looked into Rory’s eyes.  “Thank you.”  He kissed Rory sweetly.  “And thank you,” he kissed him again.

Now Rory was clearing his throat.  “I…  I don’t think I could have done otherwise.”  This earned another kiss.

The Doctor leaned away and looked at Amy, who was smiling up at him.  She looked so happy.  He leaned over and kissed her, as well.  “I love my Ponds,” he smiled, settling back against Rory’s shoulder.

“I love my boys,” Amy snuggled closer to Rory and clasped the Doctor’s hand that was resting on Rory’s chest.

“Amantes mei amo,”[2] Rory smiled, holding them closer.

 

[1] You are so extraordinary.  I love you, too.

[2] I love my loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love these characters, and I've been obsessed with them, of late. Obviously. Comments and feedback are more than welcome. This is my first post. First thing I've ever released for others to read, as a matter of fact.


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